The Hula Dancer
by Cold Ember
Summary: Set after Trust Metric, David thinks about Colby and about the good old days. David and Colby friendship. Oneshot.


**_I actually wrote this before the whole Wooly Bugger thing, way back when during a Le Font meeting (Le Font- The Writers Guild my school) where we had to take an ordinary object and create a story or poem around it, so I obviously used Colby as my inspiration and her really seems like the kind of guy to stick one of those things in the middle of the FBI, doesn't he? Then I forgot about it completely until I just found it again a couple of days ago._ **

_**Big thanks to VanishingP2000 for the Beta and saving my horrible misuse of tense during the flashback.**__

* * *

_

Before all the IA and NSA and DHS and half the rest of the alphabet came in and emptied out his desk and confiscated everything as evidence, I pulled his ridiculous little hula dancer thing off the corner of it. Honestly, leave it to Colby to put that stupid thing on his desk in the middle of a federal office building. I have no idea why I grabbed the thing, I hated him, but he had been my best friend for two years. So I grabbed the hula girl, even as I ignored the voice in the back of my head telling me that Colby would never betray his country, his team or his partner. So I took the stupid dancing figurine and stuck it on top of my TV. Every time I walk into my apartment, I see it and I remember when Colby put it on his desk.

* * *

_This was going to be a long night. The Judge was dragging her heels with the warrant and it was almost 3am. Don, Megan and Colby had left at around 2am, because it seemed stupid for everyone to be completely sleep deprived when the warrant finally came through. And I drew the short straw. The elevator bell dinged, signaling that someone else was crazy and/or stupid enough to be here at 3am on a Saturday-well, Sunday, technically. And apparently that crazy/stupid person was Colby._

_And then I saw what he was wearing and I'm forced to consider the possibility that he might actually be insane. He was dressed in his Army boot camp gear and was crouched down in a stealth approach posture. I watched, dumbfounded, as he went all Secret Agent (which now seems incredibly ironic) and carefully approached our teams work area, as though it were a heavily guarded enemy stronghold. When he finally reached his desk he pulled out that stupid dashboard hula girl and stuck it on the edge of his desk, never bringing his head up any higher than eye level with the desk, his eyes darting around in a hilarious impression of acute paranoia._

_Then he sank back down below the desk level and slinked off in the direction of the break room and the door opened a few seconds later. I just sat there, roaring with laughter until he reappeared 5 minutes later, the absolute picture of innocence, with 2 cups of coffee in his hands. He asked me, with a perfectly straight face, I might add, what I was laughing at as he handed me my coffee. It was just his crappy luck that the warrant had come through about 5 minutes before he had showed up and I had been just about to call him when he had come in. I had called Don first, and he had called Megan. Man, their faces when they walked in to see Colby in his army greens in the middle of the FBI bullpen at 3am and me trying (and failing) to breathe because I was still laughing so hard. Don just looked at us, shook his head, muttered that he really didn't want to know before telling us to get ready. He turned around and headed off to get his gear for the raid with Megan right behind him, shooting a confused glance over her shoulder._

_Megan saw the little dancing girl on Monday morning when some pictures fell out of a file she was carrying and she bent down to get them, only to look up and find herself face to face with the thing. The exact phrasing of her very loud exclamation was "Holy Shit, Granger!" causing half the bullpen to look over at her and Colby and I to burst out laughing hysterically. It just so happened that Don walked in a moment later to find all three of us doubled up, roaring with laughter-Megan still sitting on the floor, Colby slumped in his chair and me leaning on Colby's desk for support. He just stared at us, obviously wondering if someone was slipping something in the break room coffee that was causing his team of highly trained federal agents to act like a bunch of drunken college students. So, once again he simply shook his head and turned on his heel and walked away, causing us to laugh even harder.

* * *

_

Man, those were the good days. I think that's why I kept the thing, so I could remember the good times, not just the bad times. I know that he didn't have a choice, that there was no way he could have told me. Only one other person, his handler-his now _dead_ handler-knew about his assignment. And Colby almost ended up dead. Because they were the only ones who knew that there was a mole. Anyone who knew that there was a mole would have a giant target on their back. When I saw him tied to that chair, it was the first time that I actually let the voice in the back of my head that had been saying that Colby would never betray his country be heard. I just wished that I had let that in sooner, maybe if I hadn't been so damn adamant about him being traitor, we could have gotten to him earlier and saved him some pain.

At this point, I can't even look at Colby, let alone talk to him anymore than necessary. I know that it makes him think that I'm mad at him and that makes me feel even worse, but I just can't face him. I should have had faith in him, like Don and Charlie and Megan did. I should have trusted him. But I didn't and I let him down. And now because I can't deal with my guilt, I'm letting him down yet again.

* * *


End file.
